Green and Red
by SweetLadyStories
Summary: Subway rule number three : don't try to talk to people, even if it is to ask about their day. Humming along to someone else's loud music isn't recommended either. AU Brittana. Three-shot.
1. PART I : Talk to me

**Hello reader !**

**English is not my first language. If you see any type of mistake or a strange formulation in this story, please let me know.**

**I want to hear any comment you have about my writing, good or bad. Yeah, don't forget about the bad ones. I want to progress.**

AU Brittana. Three-shot. Written for the Brittana Fandom Winter Fic Fall.

Rating : M

Unbetaed

* * *

**GREEN AND RED**

**PART I : Talk to me**

* * *

When she first moved to the city, the idea of taking the subway to work twice a day had appalled her. After all, she was from a little town in Ohio where she could go everywhere she needed to with her bike, and the thought alone of having to memorize the subway map was giving her a headache. But the trip from the tiny studio apartment she shared in Manhattan to the place she went to work was far too long for her to use her bike and she didn't have the means to buy a car. So for now, the subway was the only viable solution.

The morning of her first day at work, the subway train had been as crowded as she had expected it to be on a Monday at rush hour. She still managed to survive the ride : being tall served her well at last ; she had been able to breathe the air above the other travelers' heads.

The trip was considered a success when she finally saw the name of her station outside the window and managed to get out without being trampled by the horde of entering passengers.

After this, the walk in the frisky March air from the station to the dance studio had felt like a stroll in Heaven.

* * *

After a couple of weeks of twice daily subway trips, even though she still wasn't used to it, Brittany had developed a strategy – The Great Strategy Of Survival, as she liked to call it (only in her head, because people studied her with a weird look when she tried to explain out loud her understanding of the subway world).

Rule number one : wait for exiting passengers to get out before coming in – or you will probably end up like Simba's dad in the Lion King.

Rule number two : don't sit – or be especially careful when sitting. An empty seat in a crowded subway car can only mean one thing : something gross is on it. After sitting on some used gum on Wednesday night, Brittany decided that trying to keep standing during the ride could possibly help her develop her balance, which was always useful for a dancer.

Rule number three – and the most important one : don't try to talk to people, even if it is to ask about their day. Even if someone looks sad, don't try and ask them what's wrong. It may seem like you all speak English, but they will probably look at you like you're insane and speaking some foreign language. Humming along to someone else's loud music isn't recommended either.

Now that she had understood some of the unspoken rules of the subway, Brittany wasn't as nervous about the rides as she had been on her first day of work.

* * *

It was a Thursday when she first saw her. For once, the subway car wasn't crowded, because it was in the middle of the day and rush hour wouldn't begin before another hour or two. Thursdays were the only day of the week when Brittany didn't have to work on the afternoon.

She chose the car in the front of the train. She had noticed it was the closest one from the stairs she used to exit the station, and had made a habit of always riding in that one. Not that it saved her that much time, but she liked having some kind of pattern. It helped her not getting lost.

The train being quite empty, she didn't have any trouble finding a seat – after, of course, checking for any trace of gum on it. She pulled out her purple headset and searched her phone for some music. She didn't have a lot of soft songs on it, because she usually listened to music when coming home from work on the evenings, and soft songs combined to a long day of dancing resulted in a very, very sleepy Brittany. That was why she only put catchy, energetic songs on her phone, and she often almost missed her stop as it was.

Lost in the music, Brittany watched the other passengers enter and exit the car. Watching people had always been one of her go-to pastimes, but she had learned the hard way that New Yorkers didn't like to be stared at. Maybe it was like that saying which said not to 'look into a dog's eyes' because the dog will think you're challenging it ? She didn't mean to challenge people. Perhaps this was something she needed to add to her subway strategy, even though it wasn't true in the subway only. Rule number three : don't talk to people, don't stare at people.

While she was lost in her thoughts, her eyes settled on one of the entering passengers. Brittany could only see the person's back. It was a woman, with long, straight black hair. Or maybe a man with long hair ? No, definitely a woman. A man wouldn't have that kind of clothes. Or that kind of legs…

The woman turned and her eyes immediately found Brittany's. Hugh. She had hardly decided to amend her rule number three and she had already been caught staring at someone. She diverted her gaze quickly, hoping the woman didn't understand that she had been stared at for a while already.

During the ten minutes she had left to ride before her stop, Brittany couldn't help peeking at the dark-haired woman. At first she only wanted to make sure she hadn't _challenged_ her by mistake or made her mad in any way, but after a few glances which went unnoticed by their target, she relaxed once more and took in the sight. The woman wasn't looking her way anymore, but Brittany had caught a glimpse of her dark eyes earlier. She had the time to observe toffee skin and manicured hands before the woman changed her stance slightly, and Brittany promptly diverted her gaze once again.

The woman was good-looking. Okay, let's be honest here. She was hot. Her hair was shiny and her stance elegant, in sort of an _'I am hot and I know it'_ way. She wore a light blue shirt and tight jeans. With a wide hat and a pair of leather boots, she would totally look like a cowboy. Well, a cowgirl. Not the slutty kind of cowgirl though. God, did she really have to think about that ? Now she had to find a way to get rid of the sexy pictures playing in her head.

If it wasn't for her third subway rule, maybe Brittany would have tried to talk to her. In her home town, she wouldn't have hesitated this long before talking to a pretty girl. But then again, there was no subway in Lima, and she wasn't afraid of crossing the path of potentially aggressive people. Her friend and roommate Quinn had warned her enough times to discourage her from trying small talk.

She saw the woman a few more times, every now and then locking eyes with her for a split second, but was never bold enough to go talk to her.

* * *

At the dance studio, work became more interesting week after week, but also more demanding. Brittany gave two or three dance classes a day, four when she had to take over one of her colleagues' classes. Dancing had always been her passion, what she felt she was made for. She love helping young boys and girls to escape the world by dancing. Of course, on days when she had to teach four classes, it was exhausting. But she was used to dance many hours in a row since a long time, and she believed that being tired sometimes was a low price for doing what you loved every day, never mind being paid for it.

Brittany didn't have a lot of friends in the city, except for Quinn, but some co-workers were as close to friends as you can become in only one month. Time with Mike, who sometimes taught classes with her and whom she shared most of her lunch breaks with, was what made the day less monotonous.

After a quick lunch with Mike, his girlfriend Tina and a couple of other co-workers, Brittany left work to go home. Even though it was a Thursday, which meant she got to go home early, she was exhausted. She had taught no less than five classes the day before, and two more in the morning. She really needed a lazy afternoon and a good night of sleep if she wanted have enough energy to end the week on a positive note on Friday.

With the opening notes of some Queen song in her ears, Brittany leaned against the quivering wall of the subway car and looked out the window at the passing buildings. She was so tired.

She blinked once… twice, to try and wake her eyes.

What was this song ? It totally wasn't Queen anymore. She didn't even remember putting this on her phone. Wait, was it night already ? Everything was dark. Suddenly, Brittany realized her eyes were tightly closed. Did she fall asleep ?

A movement right next to her made her jump. Something had just brushed against her arm. Was someone trying to steal her bag ? She opened her eyes in alarm and, blindsided by the light in the car, had to wait a second for them to focus on the person next to her. It was the dark-haired, dark-eyed woman she remembered seeing from time to time. She couldn't be trying to steal her bag, right ? She didn't look like someone who would try to. Then again, did pickpockets look like anything out of the ordinary ? Probably not. Pretty Stranger opened her mouth to say something.

"You're my headband, wrapped tight around my melon…"

Crap, she still had her headset on. And she was listening to a song about a headband. She blushed, before realizing she was the only one who could hear it anyway.

"Sorry, uh, I didn't… headband – I mean, headset," she said. Oh God, what was happening to her mouth ? "What did you say ?"

The brunette smiled. She had a lovely smile. And lovely lips. And –

"I said I was sorry for waking you up. I didn't mean to," she said. "Just wanted to sit."

"Okay. Sorry," Brittany said, but she didn't even know what exactly she was apologizing for, so she settled on inspecting her lap, trying to hide her embarrassment. Was she supposed to make small talk ? She indeed wanted to talk to the woman, but she wasn't good at small talk, and she knew it. Plus, she just had embarrassed herself by freaking out when the woman had sat next to her, before asking her to repeat her apology. Maybe she just shouldn't acknowledge her ? Her subway rule number three pretty clearly said not to talk to people. But after all, she wasn't the one who had engaged a conversation.

A glance outside the window cut short her internal struggle. This was her stop.

"Shoot," she exclaimed while picking up her bag in a hurry. She was already so flustered she didn't even bother to dwell on the fact that she had just cursed out loud without any apparent reason. If the woman didn't already think she was a ditz, she most certainly would now.

In her hurry to exit the train, she didn't think twice about turning to the woman still sitting and blurting, probably a little too loud, "See ya !"

Once on the sidewalk outside the subway station, relieved that she had been able to exit the train on such short notice, Brittany could begin to breathe again. Her nervousness was replaced by a kind of giddy excitement at the thought of those pretty lips smiling at her. It wasn't until she had almost arrived at her building that she remembered the way she had left, and the words she had said to the brunette. 'See ya' ? Really, Brittany ? First of all, she didn't even know if she would see the woman again. Second, she was quite sure you don't need to say goodbye to someone if the only exchange between you was 'Sorry' and 'What ?' and 'Sorry' again. Well, 'goodbye' would have been fine. But 'see ya' ? Brittany wanted to kick herself.

* * *

As it turned out, maybe 'See ya' hadn't been that much of a mistake. Barely a week after this awkward first 'conversation', she saw her again.

A couple of stations after entering the train herself and sitting in an empty corner, she recognized the person who was making her way in the car as Pretty Stranger herself. Even with the lingering shame of their last encounter, Brittany couldn't tear her gaze away until the woman got close enough to her that she couldn't anymore look at her without straining her neck.

The brunette immediately sat in front of her. Had she seen her ? Did she sit here because of her ? Should Brittany make the first step and engage a conversation ? Wait, no – she probably hadn't even seen who she had sit in front of. Perhaps she didn't even remember who Brittany was ? That would be terrible, Brittany thought, before remembering how awkward their encounter had been and admitting that maybe it wasn't the worst thing ever if Pretty Stranger didn't remember her.

But after straightening her skirt on her lap, the woman raised her head and, making quick eye contact with Brittany, shot her a tight-lipped smile. Brittany was so surprised it took her a few seconds to think about smiling back. Fortunately, her neighbor hadn't stopped watching her yet, so her answering smile didn't go unnoticed. Well, she had probably seen her then. This brought Brittany back to her first questioning : now that they had acknowledged each other, was she supposed to say something ?

"Nice shirt," the woman said. Well, that solved the problem : she didn't have to decide anymore whether or not she should engage a conversation.

Brittany glanced down at her outfit. The top she was wearing had a watermelon on it and it was one of her favorite shirts to wear after work, because it made her feel relaxed and comfortable. But she wasn't sure if the woman was genuine or if she was making fun of her.

"Watermelon is my favorite," she said, in an attempt to defend herself. "It's, like – perfect. And it's so pretty. I love watermelon." Realizing she probably wasn't making any sense to her interlocutor, she tried to explain better. "I mean, food can't ever let me down, and I actually need it to live. So yeah, that's the definition of real love, I think. Love is like a watermelon, it can be hard and dark-green but it's always passion-red in the middle."

She watched her ramble with wide eyes. Brittany felt her cheeks begin to redden and mirrored the woman's facial expression. Great, just _great_. If she didn't learn soon to control her word vomit, she was going to scare for life anyone passing her way. She didn't even thank her for her compliment.

She saw the hint of a smile appear on the brunette's face, but instead of laughing at her she said, "Someone who genuinely thinks love is a watermelon can't be all bad, I guess," and sent her a wink.

The wink drew Brittany's attention to the woman's eyes. Like she had already noticed, they were dark. Now that she was close enough to actually look at them, she could see that they weren't black but a deep brown. The woman didn't wear a lot of makeup. The dull light of the subway made her eyes shine, and Brittany could only imagine how bright they would look outside, enlightened by the spring sun.

Even though she wasn't smiling with her mouth, Brittany could see her eyes were sparkling. That could only mean it was a real smile, right ?

Before she had time to think about it, her brain, still astonished by the brunette's wink, sent directions to her mouth. "Your eyes are smiling. I like it."

"Uh, okay," the woman answered. "Thanks, I guess."

And she stood up. Oh God, that was the beginning of the end, wasn't it ? She was starting to make people run away from her.

"That's my stop. _See ya,_ watermelon lover," the woman said with a polite smile before exiting the train.

Still sitting stiffly in her seat, Brittany had to breathe for a minute before feeling like moving again. She picked up her phone from her back pocket and scrolled through her contacts to find Quinn's number.

'quinnie, pls tell me the truth. am i socially challenged?'

The answer arrived only a few seconds later.

'Not in my opinion. What's going on ?'

'i just told a stranger tht watermelons were the definition of love. and then tht i liked her smiling eyes. whats happening to my brain?'

'SHE HOT?'

Brittany frowned. That was totally not coming from Quinn. It was probably Noah, her boyfriend, who liked to 'borrow' Quinn's phone at random moments. But how did this have anything to do with smiles and watermelons ? She shrugged. Any explanation Quinn or Noah might have, she was ready to listen to.

'hi noah. shes pretty, yeah. why?'

The answer didn't come right away this time. Brittany assumed Quinn was trying to get her phone back. Or maybe Noah just had a lot to say about hot ladies.

'Don't mind Noah. You're totally normal. She's pretty : you tell her the first thing you think about. Probably watermelons, from what I understood. Then she smiles, she's still pretty : you tell her the first thing in your head again. That's normal, Britt. You like her, don't you ?'

Brittany bit her bottom lip. If Quinn could read that much in a four texts exchange, Pretty Stranger had probably got it, too. Dodging the question, Brittany sent :

'ur sayin i was obvious?'

Her phone didn't take more than a few seconds to buzz with Quinn's answer.

'Well yeah. But I'm sure the girl will think it's cute.'

"Oh my God," Brittany muttered.

Even after enduring an entire evening of jokes from a teasing Quinn, who tried to make her say the name of her 'crush' – which she didn't even know, by the way – and after telling her she was going to bed early to make up for all the sleep she lost during the week, she couldn't stop playing Pretty Stranger's wink in her head over and over again.

Going to bed early sort of lost all of its purpose, in that dark eyes appeared in front of her eyelids every time she closed her eyes, shining on her from their location in between long curtains of black hair, keeping her away from sleep until late into the night.

* * *

After the watermelon-related incident, Brittany had promised herself she wouldn't create such a disaster next time. That is, if she ever saw Pretty Stranger again.

But in spite of this resolution, Brittany didn't see the brunette the next day. She was a little disappointed that she couldn't try and make up for her word vomit, but after all, she didn't remember ever seeing Pretty Stranger on a Friday morning. Or on any morning for that matter.

Work on Fridays was quite slow compared with the rest of the week. She only had one class in the morning and one in the afternoon. She usually spent her long lunch break chatting with Tina at the reception or, once in a while, assisting Mike. While she was most of the time teaching to young children, Mike took care of bigger kids and adults' classes.

When she passed the door of the hall, Tina was busy helping a woman make some little girl's – most certainly her daughter – application. Brittany smiled at the kid, before sitting on a chair behind the counter. She began playing Tetris on her phone while waiting for Tina to deal with the application.

Like any other time she didn't have anything to busy herself with, her thoughts got back to the woman from the subway. She couldn't help but feel like she was supposed to be a bit crazy for taking a liking so quickly to someone she had scarcely had one conversation with. But the woman was truly gorgeous, considerate enough to compliment Brittany on a silly shirt and she hadn't laughed at her when she had ruined the conversation by talking about watermelons.

"Hey, Britt, where did you go ?" Tina asked with an amused smile.

Brittany knew most of her co-workers had noticed how easily she spaced out, but Tina was one of the few who didn't try to make her feel bad about it.

"Hi Tina, I'm sorry, I was uh – thinking about subway... stuff," she answered. She wasn't particularly fond of the idea of telling Tina about Pretty Stranger, but she didn't want to lie either. Glancing around, she noticed the two clients were gone and they were alone in the room.

"Subway stuff ?" Tina parroted, looking skeptical. "Why think about subway stuff during lunch break ?"

Tina seemed authentically curious, so Brittany said, "Just thinking about someone I met in the subway yesterday."

"Oh, really ? Like _met_ met ?" Tina inquired with a grin, looking more and more delighted.

By now Brittany was resigned to tell everything to Tina, but at the last moment she remembered that the girl was known for her incapacity at keeping things for herself. "Listen, Tina, I do want to tell you, but I really don't want everyone here to know about it, you know ?"

She pouted. "Please tell me. I won't tell."

"Okay. So there's this pretty woman I've seen a couple times when I was taking the subway after classes," she began to explain and, upon noticing that Tina was about to interrupt her and not wanting to have to say it all again, finished her sentence all in one breath. "Yesterday she sat in front of me, and I started telling her really stupid stuff about fruits and smiles, and I think I made her run away, and Quinn thinks it's because I like her."

Her heart was beating hard from the lack of oxygen. She felt a blush creeping on her cheeks and scolded herself for being so embarrassed over nothing. Why was talking about a stranger such a big deal ?

Tina's smile was taking up a whole half of her face. "Looks like you're crushing hard here, Britt !" Then she added in a reassuring voice, "Anyway, I don't think you could ever make someone run away. You're way too friendly for that." After a second, her eyes went wide. "Wait, does your pretty stranger like girls ?"

Brittany choked on her own saliva. How did Tina know she had been calling the woman from the subway Pretty Stranger in her head ?

"She's not _my_ Pretty Stranger, unfortunately," she muttered. "And I don't know if she likes girls. I don't even know her name."

"Oh, wow, okay. Find out then," Tina said. Brittany would have liked it to be this easy. But you don't just jump on people and ask them if they like girls, do you ? She didn't think there was a smooth way to do it. Whatever the case, Brittany felt like she needed to get to know someone before asking for their orientation. After all, maybe the woman from the subway wasn't even that likeable. Maybe she was a jerk and Brittany wouldn't even want to know if she liked girls after finding out more about her.

Tina must have sensed Brittany's confused reaction, because she clarified, "Her name, I mean. Find out her name."

Oh, okay. "How ?"

"Dunno. Maybe just ask her for it," Tina said in a teasing voice.

Two guys entered the building, and Brittany let Tina go back to her work. However, this time she didn't feel like going to Mike's classroom. Her mind was too busy to work some more hours just after she had finished her own class.

She went back to the room, now deserted by the kids, where she had taught her morning class, and danced alone to the loud music of the speakers. She needed a plan to find out Pretty Stranger's name and, if possible, get to know her some more.

* * *

Now that Brittany was actually expecting to see her, the dark-haired woman wasn't anywhere to be seen during any of Brittany's rides back home. She wasn't there on Monday nor on Tuesday. Maybe she had only been a tourist and she had left the city already ? Or maybe Tina had been wrong last Friday, and Pretty Stranger _was_ actually repelled by her ?

It wasn't until Thursday that the woman finally made an appearance in the front car of the train. Immensely relieved to see her even though she knew she was overreacting, Brittany grinned broadly in her direction. Pretty Stranger must have seen her ; she smiled back and took a seat, one again in front of her.

She was wearing a deep red V-neck shirt, and Brittany had some trouble keeping her gaze focused on the woman's eyes.

"Hey," she said, still with a large smile on. She was determined not to say anything stupid this time.

"Hi," the women answered. Brittany noticed the smile from earlier was tugging on her lips, like it wanted to make a comeback. "What's up ?"

Brittany was amazed. The woman had just engaged the conversation. That meant she did want to talk to her. Even after listening to all that weird stuff Brittany said last time, she still came back for more.

Pretty Stranger must have misinterpreted Brittany's silence, because she added in a self-conscious tone, "Sorry, that was a really unoriginal way to start the conversation." She continued after a glance at her lap, "Let's start this over. Hi. I see you're not wearing watermelons shirts anymore. What's with the ducks ?"

Why was she always wearing that kind of clothes when she met Pretty Stranger ? She sure did love her ducks shirt, but why didn't she wear that sexy white top today ? Why the ducks shirt ? If she had chosen the sexy top, the woman could have asked "What's with the sexy top ?" That would have been so much better.

"They my favorites, too. I'm, uh – not gonna explain." Brittany internally congratulated herself for not making a fool of herself explaining that ducks where fluffy and funny and sweet.

"Okay," she said. "Ducks _are_ pretty cool."

Brittany smiled. Reminded of the fact that she wanted to know more about Pretty Stranger, she wondered what she should ask first. Her name straightaway ? No, that sounded kinda blunt. Although she did want to know.

Realizing she hadn't said anything for a while and worrying that Pretty Stranger was going to understand it as a sign it was the end of the conversation, Brittany blurted, "What's your favorite color ?"

This was an okay question. She could have said worse ; she knew it from experience.

"Uh – red. And black, I guess. If you view black as a color."

"Oh, really ? I like red and black too," she answered, enthusiastic. It wasn't a lie, she pretty much liked all the colors. Her gaze was lost in the woman's eyes and her smile seemed to never want to leave her lips.

"_You_ like black ?" the woman said, looking skeptically at Brittany. She could understand that. As far as she could remember, she had never wore anything dark on a day when she had saw her.

"I totally do. I felt so bad for the black color when I thought about how all the other colors were someone's favorite, and black probably wasn't, because people think it's too sad and not a real color. So I decided I liked it."

"Yeah ?"

"Yeah. And I like red, too, because it looks totally good on you." Brittany said, glancing at the woman's shirt.

Pretty Stranger laughed. She had a fruity laugh, which made her shoulders shake against the seat back and resonated through Brittany's entire being. "Well thank you. Can I tell you something…?"

At the pause the woman made, Brittany understood she was asking for her name. She grinned. "Brittany."

"Can I tell you something, Brittany ?" She nodded but the woman sounded like she wasn't in fact waiting for an answer. "I like how you think. No one had ever told me that love was like a watermelon. It's poetic and accurate."

"You really think that ?"

"Of course I do. I don't just go complimenting random people in the subway, you know."

"Oh yeah ? I think you kinda do," Brittany teased. "You told me I had a nice shirt the other day."

"Fine, I do," Pretty Stranger chuckled again.

"I have to get off at the next stop," Brittany said, trying to keep the sting of disappointment from showing on her face. She had not seen the woman for a week after the watermelon thing, and she feared she would disappear once more. "Will I see you again ?"

"Of course you'll see me again," she smiled, amused. "We're kinda friends, right ?" Brittany nodded, delighted. "I've been in the same train as you every Thursday for almost two months. Why would I stop now ?"

Oh God. Was this true ? Every Thursday ? Brittany felt silly. She went two months without noticing that she only saw the woman on Thursdays.

"So you didn't stop taking the subway for a week because of what I said then ?" she mumbled.

"Why would I do that ?" Then she added, "Come on now, you're gonna miss your stop. See you next week, Brittany."

A new wink from the woman and Brittany's brain was completely messed up once again.

She didn't realize she still didn't know the woman's name until she was out the station and it was too late to ask for it.

* * *

The next Thursday, Brittany left the studio without having lunch with Mike. She needed the extra time to go on an errand and still happen to be in the same train as Pretty Stranger.

She didn't even have time to make two steps inside the floral shop before the owner began assaulting her.

"Hi. I need to buy a flower," she said.

The petite florist looked at her like if she wanted to say 'well, duh'. But instead she asked, "For what occasion ?"

"Hum, it's for a friend." Pretty Stranger had said they were friends, right ? Right.

"A _special_ friend ?" the woman asked, and Brittany didn't like how she stressed the word 'special' in that shrill voice of hers. What did that even mean ? "Alright, what kind of flower are you looking for ?"

She began reciting a list of every flower that could be bought in the shop, and soon Brittany was lost. She didn't know a quarter of those names. And a flower was supposed to be appreciated by looking at it, not by hearing its name, right ?

"I like roses," she said, hoping the florist would stop talking so much.

"Fantastic. Roses. They're basic and everyone knows the meanings of the colors."

Brittany frowned. What meanings ?

"Red, a red rose," she said. "Please."

"Red ? But didn't you just say it was _not_ for a special friend ?" Brittany didn't remember telling her this, and was about to say just that, but the woman kept talking. "White roses mean pure and peaceful feelings. I don't think you should go with that for a friend. But you can keep it in mind for your wedding. I can make you a loyalty card. To go back to your purchase, I can assure you yellow roses, however, stand for friendships and warm feelings. What do you think ? A yellow rose is perfect, I think. Why only one, anyway ? I can make you a bouquet of yellow roses. It really lightens a room."

"No, it has to be red. A single red rose, please," Brittany tried to interrupt. Pretty Stranger had said her favorite colors were red and black. She didn't think a black rose was easy to find, so it had to be red.

"But red roses are a symbol of deep, strong, passionate love ! Surely this is not what you want this flower to convey ? I, for one –"

"I don't really care," Brittany said. If the woman tried one more time to convince her, she was going to be late at the subway station. And this would mean buying the flower in the first place was for nothing. "One red rose, please."

"Okay, if you're sure." The brunette heaved an obnoxious sigh, and finally picked a rose from behind her, put a piece of golden stars-covered paper around it and asked Brittany for the payment.

Brittany went back outside, closing behind her the door imprinted with the shop's name, _Rachel's Berry,_ in golden letters. She promised herself never to go back in there again, her hand clutching the rose.

Now she was in a hurry.

* * *

Brittany ran the last few meters in the station and had to press herself against someone to enter the train. There was plenty of room inside the car, but like every day, there were always some people to insist on standing in front of the door, preventing anyone to enter or exit without some struggle. It was frustrating.

In her precipitation, Brittany stepped on some guy's foot and, her balance lost, tried to keep standing by grasping his arm.

"Sor–"

"Watch it, Blondie !" he barked in a rough, gravelly voice. Although he was neatly smaller than her, he was sort of intimidating. This was certainly due to his slit-like eyes, glaring at her from under his furrowed eyebrows. His thick black goatee did nothing to dull the effect. He withdrew his hirsute arm sharply and pushed her off him. "Are you stupid, or what ?"

Brittany bit her lip and stared at the ground. Somehow, this insult was of the ones she has heard the most directed at her, and it made her feel looked down at.

She took a step backwards, but the train started up at the same time and she lost her balance again. Only this time, someone caught her right away, preventing her from stumbling back into the hostile guy. Warm arms helped her standing until she found something to hang on to. Turning to her rescuer, she saw it was Pretty Stranger. Brittany smiled at her, but she wasn't looking her way. She was glaring at the guy who had called her stupid and it looked like her eyes were throwing daggers at him. She was like a Medusa of modern times.

"You say anything to her again asshole, just _one more thing_, and I swear you're gonna hurt so bad tomorrow morning you'll have to _crawl_ to get out of the bin I'm gonna put you in."

He shot her a nasty look but didn't say anything.

"Good," she told him.

Then she removed her arms from their position around Brittany's body and the warmth she had felt just a second ago instantly disappeared. She pulled Brittany by the arm to the middle of the car, where there were empty seats and no mean people.

"Thanks. I'm a klutz," she said, not looking at her because she was a little embarrassed she couldn't defend herself back there. But she was sort of used to it, and it didn't affect her that much anymore.

"You're welcome. Don't listen to that jerk. He probably takes it out on people because his face is too ugly for him to get laid," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Brittany laughed weakly. She was still a little shaken.

"I'm serious, Brittany. From what I've seen until now, you're quite smart. It was not okay for him to tell you that."

But really, it was okay. She'd rather have people saying stuff about her without knowing her than them getting to know her and still say it after that. People who judge are just that – judgmental. But friends who judge are people who know you and don't think you deserve to be known. They're the ones who _saw_ you for real, when you trusted them and opened up to them, and didn't like what they saw. That's worse than having strangers talk behind your back or calling you stupid in the subway. So yes, it was okay. Plus, Brittany was used to deal with these things. But her pretty friend had been so sweet, protecting her and all, she didn't want to tell her that.

So instead, she looked her in the eye and said again, "Thank you."

The woman smiled, but her dark eyes still had a worried shade.

"Listen, do you want to get out of here ? Have some coffee, maybe ?" she asked. "I remember there's a Starbucks near the next station. We could go there." Brittany was surprised. Was she asking her on, like, a date ? Or was this just a friendly way to cheer her up ? Probably noticing the hesitation in Brittany's eyes, she instantly tried to backtrack. "If you want to, that is. You don't have to. I just thought it's still fairly early, so – I don't know…"

"Yeah, okay," she interrupted, happy the woman was bold enough to make the first step. Brittany wasn't shy, but she often felt confused and she worried a lot that people would not understand her.

She picked up her bag and got ready to follow her friend outside the station.

* * *

Brittany made her way to a free table and sat in front of her hot chocolate, Pretty Stranger following close behind her.

After sitting next to her and taking a sip of her latte, she asked, pointing to Brittany's hand, "What's this ?"

Glancing at her hands on her lap, Brittany remembered the reason she was in a hurry in the first place. Still in her hand, the flower was a bit rumpled from the death grip Brittany had had on it. The paper with the stars was starting to fall on its own, so Brittany tore it away and made a ball of crumpled paper from it.

"It was for you," she said.

"Really ?" the woman asked, sounding surprised by the gesture. "It _was_ ? And what, it's not anymore ?" she added, teasing.

"No, I mean yes. Uh, it's still for you." Brittany extended her arm to give her the rose. "You said red was your favorite color," she added, feeling an explanation was needed.

Pretty Stranger's eyes softened. "That's so sweet," she said. "Thank you so much. It's beautiful."

"You're welcome."

When she took the rose from her, her fingers brushed lightly against Brittany's hand. She felt goose bumps wash over her. Glancing at her arm, she saw all the hair on it standing up. Why didn't the hair on her head stand up like this, too ? It would look so funny – and maybe a little weird, too. She tried to imagine how Pretty Stranger's hair would look like if they were standing up and giggled.

"What ?" the woman asked, her wide smile revealing some teeth. "Do I have something on my face ?"

"No, you don't. You're just very funny in my head right now, is all."

Brittany almost wanted to go back to the floral shop to brag about how the red rose didn't make Pretty Stranger freak out.

"So, tell me," the woman said in that smoky voice Brittany had become almost used to by now. "What do you expect from me in exchange for this ?"

Brittany could tell she was joking, but she answered without hesitation. "Your name," she said, adding "Please" after a second of thinking.

"Santana."

Oh wow, that was a beautiful name. "It's beautiful." Now she didn't have to call her Pretty Stranger in her head anymore, the real thing was so much better. "Hello Santana," she said, testing the name on her lips. "I'm Brittany, it's nice to meet you."

She laughed. "I already know you're Brittany."

"Yeah, but now we're even."

"We are," she said with a grin.


	2. PART II : Don't leave me

**A big thank you to everyone who read, favorited and alerted, especially those who left the kind reviews !**

* * *

**GREEN AND RED**

**PART II : Don't leave me**

* * *

Life in New York was different from what Brittany has imagined. Before moving to the city, she had fantasized about explosions of colors and dreams becoming true and going to the theater every Friday night.

Of course, living with her best friend in New York was great. There were some days when they almost didn't see each other, because Brittany sometimes came home late from work and Quinn happened to juggle law school and part-time job to pay the rent. But she couldn't put into words how much it meant to her to be able to have a quiet dinner with her best friend after a long day, or to have someone to share her excitement about New York with.

However, this was far from all the fun Brittany had thought they would have. Before the beginning of Quinn's classes, they had been visiting all the touristy spots of the city, but unpacking all their stuff had also taken a lot of time and energy. Now that they both had a busy schedule, they couldn't afford to go out on most evenings during the week. Bars and theaters were reserved for the week-ends when Quinn didn't have too much work to do.

What was more, Brittany got to dance every day in one of the best dance studio of the city. Sometimes teaching was draining, especially on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, but the fact that it was dance made it okay. It was well paid, she got to interact with children and have lunch with friends, all the while doing what she loved to do the most in the whole world.

She also looked forward to meeting Santana every Thursday. Since the first time they had spoken, they had not gone a single week without seeing each other. It was now part of Brittany's routine and she liked it that way, although she would have enjoyed seeing her more than twenty minutes a week. But you have to take what you can get, you know ?

* * *

She had always been a tactile person. She often had urges to pat Santana's shoulder or hug her, sometimes even take her hand while they were talking. Those were things she didn't ponder over when she was with Quinn. Her best friend knew she needed to touch people to feel close to them, and didn't mind Brittany's touchy-feely demeanor. But she didn't dare being that bold with Santana. She didn't know if she liked physical contact with her friends, and she was afraid Santana would think she had a hard time respecting other people's boundaries.

The fact that she still got warm, funny tingles whenever their skin touched did nothing to help her control herself.

Brittany liked the fact that they were always taking the subway when they saw each other. When they were sitting side by side, every sharp turn, start up or braking the train made had her conveniently bumping against Santana. After a while, she stopped apologizing for it.

* * *

Saturdays were the only working days when she and Quinn could have breakfast together without one of them being in a rush : Brittany didn't work and Quinn didn't have to go before noon. Like usual, Quinn was absorbing tremendous quantities of bacon whereas Brittany tried to find in herself enough appetite to finish her bowl of milk and Cheerios.

"Hey," Quinn began, her mouth full of food. She swallowed before adding, "You haven't told me about your subway lady-crush for a while."

Brittany tried to ignore the way her heart missed a beat at the mention of Santana. She made an attempt at offering a casual shrug.

Quinn took another mouthful of bacon. "D'you still see her ?" Brittany nodded. "Found out her name yet ?" She nodded again.

"Well ?"

"Santana."

"That's her name ? It's original, where does it come from ?"

"Uh, I dunno," she said. She hadn't even thought about asking Santana that. They had more silly subjects of conversation most of the time. Like pets or music or coffee shops. Or watermelons. They sometimes talked about Brittany's dance classes or Santana's column in that newspaper she worked for, but Santana seldom talked about her family or anything in that category. Brittany didn't want to push her.

"Sounds Spanish. I bet it's Spanish."

"Probably," she said, as though she had a clue what Spanish sounded like. The only thing she remembered clearly about Spanish class in high school was the nasty vests her teacher liked to wear any season of the year. Well, and exchanging notes with Quinn.

"We're friends now," she told Quinn.

"Cool. When are you planning to tell her being _friends_ is not exactly your final goal ?" Quinn teased.

"Stop it," she pouted. "I like being friends."

"At least try to find out if she's single. Or if she likes the ladies," Quinn said with a slight frown. "If she likes _you_. If I were you, I'd want to know if I'm heading in a dead end."

"I like getting to know her. I don't think she's with someone anyway," Brittany countered. "She would have told me. I mean, I would have told her if I was. Probably."

It sounded like she was trying to convince herself at least as much as she was Quinn. But she would have heard of it if Santana was involved with anyone, right ?

"Anyway… Do you wanna go to the movies before I leave for work ? Let's watch this one I told you about the other day !"

Brittany stared at her with a puzzled look.

"You know…? About a hot guy who steals stuff from other hot guys…?"

"I really have no idea what you're talking about."

"C'mon Britt, I really wanna see it !"

"I can't," she interrupted. "I already made plans for lunch. Sorry, Quinnie. Maybe we can go tomorrow ?"

"Oh okay. Sure," she said. "I'm gonna take a shower then."

She cleared her half of the table. Before going through the door, she called, "Think about what I said though ! You should ask Santana next Thursday !"

"Actually, it won't have to wait until next Thursday. It's her I'm meeting later."

"What ?" Quinn stuck her head back in the kitchen. She looked perplexed. "But aren't you supposed to only meet her in the subway ? That's the whole point of that thing you two have going on, right ?"

"We don't have a _thing_ going on," Brittany mumbled. She ignored Quinn's "yet !" and added, "We're friends, and friends can meet wherever they want."

* * *

Brittany was alone at a table in a corner of the room. She was in the same Starbucks she had been to with Santana, almost a month ago. Since Brittany didn't know the city that well yet, they had decided meeting in a place which she already knew was the easiest solution.

She knew it wasn't a date. She knew it. But Quinn hadn't stopped insisting it was until she had to leave for work, and she had succeeded in confusing Brittany a tad. She had made her pretty anxious over nothing, and Brittany had spent a long time choosing what clothes to wear – much too long for a simple lunch with a friend. So long in fact, that she had been under a little time pressure by the time she decided casual clothing meant _casual_ clothing. She picked a nice shirt and white pants that went good enough together, grabbed a jacket and left.

Now, surrounded by the smell of hot coffee and trying to tune out the gossiping of the teenage girls at the next table, she was waiting for Santana to show up. The longer it took, the more fidgeting Brittany was becoming.

"Hi there," a voice said from behind her, making her jump.

"Hi," she grinned. Santana was also dressed casually and Brittany took a breath of relief. Her long hair was framing her alluring face and falling on her shoulders, one of them bare. She radiated warmth. She was beautiful. "You look really pretty," Brittany said.

"Oh, good. And here I thought perhaps you only liked me under a dull subway light," she replied, putting a hand on her heart in fake relief.

"No, you're pretty here," Brittany repeated. "And in the subway, too. I mean, you're always pretty. I mean, everywhere."

Santana watched her with a look of fondness. "Thank you. You look great, too," she said, taking a seat in front of her.

Starbucks wasn't precisely the ideal place to take someone for lunch. But as it was not a fancy date – as it was not even a date in the first place – salads and sandwiches were perfect.

Santana was so quick to pay for Brittany's food that she didn't even get a chance to protest.

"No, listen. Don't worry about it. You can pay next time."

"Would this happen to be a twisted way of making sure you'll see me again, Miss ?" Brittany asked. Her attempt at lowering her voice to sound like a gallant gentleman was awful, but Santana still played the game.

"Yes, maybe it is, my good Sir."

Talking with Santana was easy. She didn't have to force or withhold anything. There were some silences and, now that there was no subway noises or loud other people around them, Brittany had kind of expected them to be awkward. But to her satisfaction, any pause in the conversation was put to good use. Eating, all the while peeking at and sending smiles to each other, was as much exchange as a concrete conversation. Brittany did everything she could to eat at the slowest pace possible, wanting to prolong the time she spent in Santana's proximity.

She learnt that Santana's last name was Lopez, that she had studied journalism in Chicago before moving to New York and that she had had a turtle named Cecilia. She also discovered Santana had a habit of alternatingly looking in Brittany's left and right eyes when she tried hard to understand something she just said, that she had dimples which showed when she smiled for real and that she occasionally laughed so hard she looked like her whole body was laughing : quivering shoulders, fisted hands and all.

She had been right. Looking at Santana in the sun was way different from looking at her in the subway.

After lunch, they wandered in the streets in the vague direction of the subway station. Brittany's left shoulder and elbow constantly bumped up against Santana's. Oh well. The sidewalk was far too narrow.

"I like graffiti," Brittany told her while passing a wall covered in colorful inscriptions. Santana turned her head to look at her. "I think they're beautiful."

"Beautiful ?" Santana parroted. She came to a halt to look at the building and read the vibrant words covering it. Brittany stopped next to her.

"I mean, okay, not always beautiful. But they're honest, at least." Santana didn't say anything. She was still watching her and she looked like she was trying to engrave in her memory anything Brittany said. It made her feel wise and esteemed, so she kept talking. "They're someone's escape. People try to express themselves, and sometimes it's beautiful, and other times it's full of rage. But it's still art, I think."

She paused and searched Santana's eyes for a hint of whether or not she understood what she was trying to say. Santana gave a subtle nod of agreement and for the first time in forever, Brittany knew she could speak her mind and she would not be laughed at. She didn't have to be scared of Santana calling her random or stupid so slow. The realization filled her with gratitude. Looking in Santana's attentive eyes, she could feel her fingers and toes tingling and her insides melting.

"People's passion makes the wall alive," she stated. "Just because graffiti aren't in museums doesn't mean they're trash."

"I like you, Britt," Santana said.

She smiled so widely it felt like her head was splitting in half. "I like you, too," she said back. "I like you lots."

Before Brittany entered the train which would bring her back home, Santana hugged her tightly.

Was it possible to be drunk on someone ? Did that mean she would have some sort of happiness-hangover the next morning ?

* * *

She had never seen Quinn so worked-up. Like, never _ever_. Not before cheer competitions back in high school. Not at breakfast on Quinn's first day in law school three years ago. Even her reaction the first time she had got behind the wheel after her car accident wasn't match for the crazed, weeping woman in front of Brittany right now.

"Listen, I'm sure he'll call. He always calls, right ?"

"He won't," she said in between sobs. "He won't call when the last thing I told him was that his behavior reminded me of how he acted in high school ! He was so mad !"

Brittany's problem here was that she didn't know how to comfort people. Sure, she knew how to be supportive and friendly and she knew Quinn like the back of her hand. She was also one hundred percent certain Noah wasn't going to stay mad at Quinn forever – he was crazy about her and couldn't last twenty-four hours without at least calling her. And she knew if the situation had been reversed, Quinn would have known what to do or say to get Brittany to calm down.

But the thing was, she didn't have the way with words Quinn had. She didn't know how to put thing in perspective so that they didn't seem so awful anymore. The only thing she could do for Quinn was trying to find solutions with her. And support her no matter what, but that was old news.

"Quinnie, Noah never stayed mad at you for long. Do you maybe want to call him yourself tonight ?"

"I can't," she wailed. "He's the one who calls. That's how we do. I sent him texts to apologize but I don't even think he read them."

"He usually calls around this time, right ?" Quinn nodded. "Maybe you can just wait for tonight ? If he calls you can apologize and if he doesn't, well, you can let it rest until tomorrow and try to call him in the morning."

"I don't know," Quinn sniffed. "I don't know if I can sleep knowing he's mad at me… We didn't miss a single goodnight call since high school…"

"I think you should try to give him a little space for tonight. Help him calm down, you know ?"

"Okay," Quinn said, her eyes red and puffy. "Thanks, Britt."

"Hey, you know I'm always here for you. I'm sure Noah will realize very soon what he misses not answering your texts," Brittany smiled with sympathy. "Do you want to eat something before bed ? Pizza ? Chinese ?" Quinn didn't look motivated. "Maybe just ice cream ?" she tried, remembering that's what upset people eat in movies.

"I think I'm just gonna call it a night. See you tomorrow, Britt."

"Okay," she said, a bit worried about her best friend's lack of appetite. "Sweet dreams, Quinnie. It's gonna be okay."

* * *

The next morning, Brittany was woken up by her alarm clock. At first, she didn't realize something was different. It wasn't before she saw no hidden-behind-mounds-of-bacon Quinn in the kitchen that she understood why.

Her alarm clock never woke her up. Quinn always did.

She remembered the day before and Quinn's big fight with Noah. Hurrying in Quinn's room, she exhaled in relief at finding her in there, sitting cross-legged on her bed with her phone clutched to her chest.

"Hey sweetie. How did you sleep ?" she asked, careful not to trigger a fresh burst of tears.

Quinn glanced up at her. Her eyes were still reddish and her hair looked like it would never fall into place again.

"My eyes are sore," Quinn said in a little voice. "And I… I don't know if I should call him. He's probably still mad at me."

"You can try," Brittany told her. "Even if he doesn't feel like answering right now, it will show you're thinking about him and you want to talk to him."

"You're right," Quinn sighed. "But I can't call him just now. He has an important meeting or something." She looked guilty. "He told me about it last night but I don't even remember what it is. I was just so furious…"

"You can call him after then. Yeah ?"

"Yeah. I will," she said. "Thank you for always having my back, Britt," she added, but her smile didn't look cheery at all.

Brittany wasn't as focused as usual at work. When she wasn't worrying about Quinn's sad eyes, she was thinking about Santana's dark ones. Both of these pairs of eyes did nothing to help her concentrate on little kids' shaky dance moves. Even though she was confident Noah would call Quinn sometime soon, she was thankful it was Thursday and she didn't have a lot of classes. She didn't like having so much on her mind while she was in charge of kids. Plus, she got to see Santana in a few hours, so everything was swell.

* * *

Something felt off. Santana's smile didn't quite reach her eyes. Several times, Brittany caught her looking at her with a glint of something dark in her eyes, something she didn't manage to place. Was it just tiredness ? Sadness ? Disappointment maybe ?

"Are you okay ?" she asked after noticing that look for the third time in five minutes.

"Yes." Santana seemed to shake her thoughts off. "Yes, totally."

"'Kay." She smiled at her. But the smile Santana sent her back was wary. Brittany was confused. Had she done something wrong ? What could it possibly be ? Last time she had seen Santana, there had been no somber looks nor fake smiles. What had changed since then ?

She really, really hoped Santana was just having a long day.

"You're buzzing," Santana said.

What ? Buzzing ? The only thing that was buzzing right now was her mind. Wait, had she been thinking loud enough for Santana to hear ? Was that even possible ? She locked eyes with Santana. _If you can hear me, wink at me._

Santana stared at her, looking expectant.

_Come on, wink at me._

"Britt-Britt, your phone ?"

"Oh," she said, rolling her eyes at herself. Her phone was vibrating – _buzzing_ – on the seat next to her. She looked at the screen. It was Quinn.

"Sorry," she told Santana. "I have to answer, it's Quinn." Santana nodded and fidgeted with her own phone.

"Hey sweetie," she answered the phone, careful not to be too loud. She didn't like having to listen to other people's conversations and she didn't want them to hear hers, either. "Any news ?"

_"I called Noah earlier and he actually answered. Like, I didn't think he would, but he did."_

"Good," she smiled. "Did you talk ?"

_"I apologized and he apologized and he said he had meant to call, but he had this big appointment with his boss so he couldn't."_

"So is everything okay now ?"

_"I think it is ! We're having date night tonight !"_

"I'm so happy for you ! I told you it would be fine !"

_"I know. Thanks again for, you know…"_

"No problem, honey. I'm glad everything worked out."

_"There's so much noise around you. Are you in the subway ? Wait, did you see Santana ?"_

"Actually, I'm with Santana right now," she said with a smile, casting a glance at Santana. She was still examining her nails.

_"Well, I'll leave you to it, Britt... I'll see you this evening !"_

She sounded like she wanted to tease her, but Brittany didn't react. Her comment reminded her of Santana's weird demeanor.

"Okay, bye Quinnie."

She hung up and turned back to Santana.

"Sorry," she said again. But Santana was already on her feet, tensed expression on her face and holding on to her handbag for dear life.

"Gotta go," she said without looking in her eyes.

"Oh… Okay. Well… See you next week ?"

Santana didn't answer. She just offered a forced smile and quickly stepped out of the train. If something had felt _off_ before, now it was worse. This was so awkward. Brittany didn't even think there was an _on_ button anymore.

* * *

The weather was becoming warmer every day. The air outside smelled like summer. This was the first morning in a while when people could go out without a jacket. Brittany breathed in deeply to take in the wonderful scent of freshly cut grass as she passed Central Park. She had taken a shower after her last class and had changed into a pretty sundress, because she wanted to acknowledge summer was finally here. It felt right.

As she approached the station, Brittany couldn't stop smiling at every person passing her way. She couldn't help her good mood. It was the irrepressible effect sunlight had on her.

She couldn't wait to see Santana. She felt like she hadn't laid her eyes on her for a lifetime. Like she hadn't felt her skin touching Santana's skin for so long she couldn't remember exactly how amazing the tingles felt. But truly, it had only been a week since they last met, like usual.

Brittany sat at her regular spot in the train. Always sitting at the same place was how she and Santana managed to find each other every Thursday. She pulled out her phone and headset and giggled at _My Headband_ opening the playlist. It reminded her of the first time Santana had spoken to her and she smiled. Bobbing her head to the song, she waited for her friend to enter the car and sit next to her like she always did.

But Santana didn't show up. There were only three stops before Brittany had to get off the train and she was still alone.

She started to worry. Had something happened to Santana ? Her hands were sweating where they gripped her phone. She hoped Santana had only missed the train. They would probably laugh about it next week. She thought about Santana's laugh to try and ease her anxiety, but it wasn't that effective.

She was starting to wonder if it really was Thursday when her eyes fell on a familiar silhouette near the car entrance. Santana was standing so close to the door it looked like she wanted to jump from the train as soon as they would open.

Brittany was confused. Why wasn't Santana sitting next to her ? Maybe she didn't see her ? Or maybe she had mixed up the days, like Brittany had thought she did herself, and didn't realize it was Thursday ?

Dread slowly filled her chest. Santana was smart. She didn't mix things up. She knew it was Thursday. And she most certainly also knew Brittany was sitting here.

Was she avoiding her ? But why ?

She knew they had never actually agreed to meet every Thursday. She knew that Santana didn't owe her anything at all. But it still hurt.

Why would Santana rather ride alone than in her company ?

Brittany was weighing up the pros and cons of standing up and joining Santana by the door. She was dying to know _why_. But she was also afraid of what Santana would say. That they were never friends at all ? That she was tired of listening to Brittany's randomness ? Maybe she was too dumb to entertain a journalist after all.

She never had the time to decide whether or not she should go talk to her. Santana got off at the next station, Brittany powerlessly staring at her back.

She waited in silence for the few minutes it took the train to stop at her station. She was no longer in the mood for the catchy songs on her phone.

When she stepped on the station, she noticed how hot the air was. The trains had air-con, but underground stations were most of the time stifling in summer – Quinn had warned her before, but this was the first time she experienced it for herself. There was not a single breeze of fresh air to breathe. Even in her dress, she was sweating.

Outside the station it was much better. But she still wasn't in the good mood she had been in before the ride. The sunlight which had made her so cheerful earlier now felt like a burn on her skin. The sun didn't feel warm anymore, it felt hot and heavy. The smell of summer only reminded her of how stunning Santana had looked the first time she had seen her in the sun. Smiles coming from happy-looking strangers passing her on the street made her want to curl up on herself in a corner.

The blazing sunlight burnt her eyes. This was probably the reason why they were full of tears.

* * *

Brittany spent the week trying to convince herself that Santana simply hadn't seen her. Or that she at least had a good reason to act like she didn't.

Maybe she usually wore contact lenses and she happened to forget them last Thursday. She had had to endure fuzzy vision the whole day. When the time had come for them to meet in the subway, her eyes were too strained to look for Brittany.

Maybe she had a twin sister who looked exactly the same as her, but didn't know anything about Brittany, because they had stopped talking to each other ten years ago. That explained why Santana had never told Brittany about her sister. Or maybe she was a clone. The real Santana had missed the train and the _other her_ happened to be there in her place. In which case, Brittany had to be careful. In movies, clones were always bad news.

Or maybe Santana was a special agent working undercover. Last Thursday, she had been running away from people trying to kill her. She ignored her because she didn't want to place Brittany's life at risk. If they had seen them talking, they would have seized her and tortured her for information about Santana's current location.

She certainly didn't want to sell Santana out. So she was okay with watching her from far away for a while. She was just as beautiful to watch from a distance as she was up close anyway. Brittany just missed the warmth.

* * *

She spent one more Thursday ride 'watching Santana from far away' before she lost it.

Santana was standing next to the door once again. She hadn't looked at her even once. But she wriggled her hands in front of her and looked quite nervous. Maybe she felt Brittany's gaze on her. Maybe she shouldn't be staring. Subway rule number three.

But this was Santana. She just _had_ to stare, no matter how many times it made her heart crack inside when she failed at locking Santana's eyes with her own.

She had been so engrossed in watching Santana, she didn't notice the blonde guy by her side until he began talking to her. Brittany couldn't hear what was said from over here. She could only see his big pink lips moving. Santana didn't look surprised. Did she know him ?

Santana smiled at him. It wasn't the beautiful teeth-showing, dimples-revealing smile she used to give her – the one Brittany wanted to lock in a chest, bury on a beach somewhere far away and keep the key for herself alone to treasure – but it was a smile, and it was more than she had given Brittany for a while. Since the last time she had talk to her in fact, which felt like a really, really long time ago.

Mister Fishy was now in full action, his forearm supporting him against the wall and a weird expression on his face. Maybe he was telling her a joke ? Santana wasn't smiling anymore. She was staring at him looking confused. But he couldn't know, it wasn't her face he was staring at.

Brittany only processed one thing. Santana was letting some guy hit on her. Right in front of Brittany.

He leaned even more into her. This time she was clearly neither smiling nor listening to him. She just looked like someone who wants to take to their heels and never come back again. She tried to put some distance between them by passing under his arm.

Brittany was already standing and rushing to them by the time he gripped her arm to try and get her attention once more.

"Hey, wait," he told her boobs. "Wanna hear my Sean Connery impression ? It's better than the last one, I swear."

She just _had_ to interrupt somehow. She couldn't bear watching her so close to him even one more second. Even more so, she couldn't stand seeing Santana look so distressed.

"Hi," she told Santana from above Blonde Guy's shoulder. "Can I talk to you for a second ?"

Then she turned to him. "Can you go ? It's, like, private. Thanks, bye."

He looked mystified, but turned away after one last glance at Santana behind his shoulder.

Santana frowned. Ouch. She didn't look pleased to see her. That hurt.

When Santana didn't say anything, Brittany remembered she was supposed to talk, since she was the one who had asked for a conversation. It made sense.

"Santana, why haven't you been talking to me ?"

"Britt –"

"Just tell me what I did wrong," she pleaded. "Whatever it is, I'm sorry."

Santana looked conflicted. "I can't –" She stopped abruptly. Her eyes were doing that thing they did when she was thinking hard about something. She looked like she was waiting for the result of a battle happening in her mind. Brittany was waiting, too. "I can't do this, Brittany."

Brittany was only beginning to process that answer when Santana shot her an apologetic look and turned her back to her. In the blink of an eye, she had gotten off the train and left Brittany alone with her doubts.

Santana hadn't called her by her full name for a long, long time. What was it that she couldn't do ? Talking to subway strangers ? Being friends with blonde people ? Being friends with blonde subway strangers ? She had seemed okay with it before. Well, she obviously wasn't anymore.

Brittany felt stupid for thinking Santana had been her friend. Maybe you can't be friends with someone you only talk to once a week for the time of a ride.

* * *

She was so drained she felt like crying when she realized there was no more milk in the fridge. She couldn't eat her Cheerios without milk. It was unnatural.

"Disaster," she muttered.

She begrudgingly put on her running shoes and a jacket and made her way to the store. She grabbed a bottle of milk and, after a second of thinking, some chocolate. Maybe it would help her feel warm inside again. If not, at least the sweetness would make up for the bitter taste of rejection she had in her mouth.

She made her way to the cashier and buried her hand in her jean pockets. She hadn't thought of taking any money with her when leaving earlier. God. Could anything go any more wrong, please ?

Shooting the tall guy behind the cash register a contrite look, she shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket. Finding a piece of paper, she breathed in relief. She was about to hand away what she thought was a ten-dollar bill, when she noticed it wasn't one. It was a scribbled note which looked like it had been there for quite some time already.

Brittany smoothed it out to read it. There were only a few words. 'Britt-Britt' and 'Call me' followed by a few numbers.

She gasped. Only one person had ever called her that.


	3. PART III : Stand by me

**Thanks again to everyone who reads !**

**To the guest who reviewed in Spanish : I'm not Spanish (sorry !) but I understood what you said thanks to long-forgotten Spanish lessons and a translator ;) Thank you for reading !**

**To the guest who said 'Quinnie' sounds ridiculous : I totally agree, but I like the idea of Brittany being the kind of person who calls her friends cute, ridiculous nicknames all the time.**

* * *

**GREEN AND RED**

**PART III : Stand by me**

* * *

Brittany had been staring at the note, smoothed out on the kitchen counter, for almost ten minutes straight. She has left the store without any milk and now the only thing she could think of was… Was this Santana's number ?

It couldn't be. It had been two weeks since Santana last talked to her. But on the other hand, she knew there was no way this was from someone else. Santana was the only person who had ever called her 'Britt-Britt'. And the only 'friend' of hers whose number she didn't have already.

But how the hell did this paper appear in her pocket ?

Brittany racked her brain. Maybe Santana had put it in her pocket last time she had talked to her ? It was unlikely ; that last time, Santana had already been acting weird. When, then ?

When was the last time she wore that jacket, anyway ? It had been way too warm outside to wear it for a while now.

It clicked abruptly. Last time she had put that jacket on, she had been going on a non-date with Santana. They had eaten sandwiches and laughed a lot – Brittany felt a pang at the memory – and then, Santana had told her she liked her. And she had hugged her before they parted ways. Could it be that Santana had put this paper in the pocket of her jacket while they hugged ? Brittany remembered feeling incredibly tingly. It was reasonable to believe that she wouldn't have noticed. Hell, she probably wouldn't even have noticed if the sky had fallen down on New York at that moment. Her thoughts were all Santana-Santana-Santana.

The note asked her to call. But if she was right, and Santana had given it to her that one time, it had been almost a month ago. Things had changed since then – she didn't really know why, but they had. What if Santana didn't want her to call anymore ?

* * *

According to Quinn, when someone left a note that said 'call me', they wanted you to call them. Even if it was a month later.

"She hasn't been talking to me lately. I don't think calling her will change anything." Brittany tried to be realistic. "If she doesn't like me in the subway, there's no reason she will on the phone…"

"You don't know that, Britt," Quinn argued. "I'm sure she likes you. She said she did, right ?" Brittany nodded. "There you go. Just try and call her. At least you'll know where you stand – still better than brooding over it forever, don't you think ?"

"Okay. You're right," Brittany swallowed apprehensively. "I'm gonna call her. Like, right now."

She grabbed her phone and dialed the number written on the note as quickly as she could. If she thought about it even one more second, she would chicken out.

"Okay," she muttered. She pushed the 'call' button and bit her lip, staring anxiously at the device.

Her palms were sweating. She usually wasn't such a nervous person. She used to do anything she wanted to without thinking twice about it. She used to publicly hit on girls in Lima, Ohio were nobody wanted to see two girls together. She used to be a cheerleader _and_ a Glee Club member in a school where popular kids didn't mix with 'nerd' kids. But right now, the thought only of calling Santana made her fidget with her nails so much her fingers were aching. She didn't know what to do with herself.

"I've never seen you so nervous, Britt. Love-stricken much, eh ?"

She ignored Quinn and brought the phone to her ear. It was ringing. Oh God, now she couldn't go back, could she ?

Every single ring echoed loudly in Brittany's head. She was so afraid Santana wouldn't answer and, at the same time, so nervous about what she would say if she did. But after three or four more rings, she heard the clicking sound of a voicemail being activated.

She hung up in a hurry. She couldn't leave a message. She wasn't even sure of what she intended to saying to Santana, so she definitively didn't want to say it to a voicemail.

"Well, I guess she doesn't want me to call anymore," she mumbled.

"Hey, she doesn't even have a way to know you are the one calling. She doesn't have your number, remember ? Maybe she just can't answer right now," Quinn sympathized. "Try again later ?"

"I don't know. I don't want to call and have her hang up on me when she finds out it's me."

"Listen, Britt. I know you're nervous because you don't know why she's been avoiding you. But I think you need an answer. You need to know why, and asking her is the only way," Quinn insisted. "If she keeps avoiding you, then you can just delete her number and ride in a different subway car on Thursdays. But you never know what could happen till you try."

Brittany sighed heavily.

"I'm speaking from experience here, Brit. I gave Noah a second chance and I'm really glad I did."

She still didn't call again before the next Thursday. She was determined to talk to Santana and have her explain, and she'd rather do it face to face. If for some reason she couldn't, then she would consider calling again.

* * *

However, she had to admit her plan wasn't going to work on the next Thursday, when she realized she couldn't make Santana explain her anything – or even watch her from far away for that matter. Santana wasn't there at all, and Brittany had never felt so disappointed before.

Maybe Brittany trying to talk to her last week had been the last straw for Santana ? If she really didn't want to see her, maybe she had decided waiting for the next train was worth it. Either that, or something had happened to her. Brittany didn't want to think about neither one of those explanations.

But a deal was a deal, and she had promised herself she would try and call Santana again if she wasn't able to talk on her in the subway.

As soon as she got home, she took the note from her back pocket – she had been carrying it everywhere with her for fear of losing it – and dialed the number. This time Quinn wasn't in the apartment, so she couldn't eavesdrop or tease Brittany about her nervousness. However, this also meant nobody would be there to comfort her if Santana refused to talk to her.

It rang. She still heard nothing. Nobody was picking up. Santana didn't want to talk to her. Or she was busy doing… things that journalists do. Or it wasn't even Santana's number. Some freak had put a note in her pocket while she wasn't looking. Or maybe it was _her_ phone that didn't work ? This was the second time–

_"Hello ?"_

Okay, that sounded a lot like Santana. Please make it be Santana. "Santana ? Are you Santana ? I really hope you are, 'cause if not I think I'm gonna go crazy."

_"Brittany ?"_

"Yeah. Okay, that's you. Are you going to hang up on me ? Please don't. I really want to talk. If you're okay with that. I mean, obviously you don't want to talk to me," she rambled. Looked like anxiety literally made her lose her mind. She couldn't even hear if Santana was still listening ; she talked that much. _Stop talking so much, Brittany._ "Please don't hang up."

_"Why are you calling now, Britt ? You've had my number for a long time. Why now ?"_ Santana sounded distant.

"I just found it. Like, four days ago. In the store," she rushed to explain. "There was no more milk. But I left it at the store, because I had no money."

There was a pause.

"Santana ? Are you still there ?"

_"Yeah."_

"You weren't in the subway earlier. Why weren't you there ?" Was she overstepping ? She didn't want to make Santana uncomfortable. She was already lucky enough Santana was still listening. "Uh, you don't have to answer that– That's probably private. You–"

_"I'm in LA. Got a paper to write in here."_

"What ?" she choked. Her knees suddenly felt weak. LA ? As in _Los Angeles_ ? That was really, really far away. Like 'several hours of time difference' far away. "How– how long ?"

If the answer was _'I'm not coming back'_, she was pretty sure she was going to faint from all the pressure on her heart (and nerves).

_"Dunno. Shouldn't be more than a couple weeks, but you never know. One month tops."_

She could breathe again. One month was a long time. But it was still better than forever. Right ? She tried to hide her sigh of relief from Santana, but she knew she wasn't subtle.

_"Listen, I gotta go. They're waiting for me."_ She paused, but she didn't sound like she had finished talking, so Brittany didn't interrupt. She could almost hear Santana's hesitation all the way from LA. She imagined Santana's gaze jumping from one of her eyes to the other, like it always did whenever she was unsure about something. "_Britt–"_ she began again. _"Did you really just find my note ?"_

"Yeah. I don't wear this jacket that much. I'm sorry. I promise I'll wear it more often. That way you can hide anything you want in my pockets, and I'll find it. Maybe in summer you can just hand stuff over to me though. There's not a lot of jacket-friendly days right now."

Santana laughed. It had been so long since she had last heard that sound. If she'd known Santana's laugh was only one phone number away, she would have asked her for it as soon as she stopped talking to her. Wait, now that she thought about it, she still didn't know why that happened.

"Santana… Are we talking again ? Or maybe just on the phone ? Since you don't want to talk when we see each other," she asked. "Just so you know, I think we'll look silly when you come back, if we talk on the phone while taking the subway together."

There was a silence once again. Brittany could hear background noises on Santana's end. Right. She said people were waiting for her. She shouldn't bother Santana any longer.

But something crossed her mind, and she couldn't help asking Santana one more question.

"Did you stopped talking to me because I didn't call you sooner ? If that's the reason, you have to know, I would have called if I'd known…"

_"Britt, I really should get going."_ Santana paused before adding, _"We'll talk soon, okay ? I have your number now."_

Brittany said goodbye and hung up without any answer to her question. Even though she couldn't help wondering if Santana avoiding the question meant that she was spot-on, something else made her forget all the rest.

One week without seeing Santana was too much already. How was she going to hang on for a _month_ ?

* * *

She went through Friday and Saturday without calling Santana again. When Quinn asked her why, she said she didn't want to come across as needy. Plus, Santana was in LA for work and she didn't want to disturb her. The real reason though was that Santana had told her they would talk soon because she now had her number. Brittany wanted to know if she had meant it. Therefore, she was waiting for Santana to call her.

It didn't happen until Sunday evening. Brittany had been on the verge of believing that Santana had changed her mind when the screen of her phone lighted up, Santana's name inscribed on it. Only one ring had the time to come out of the device before Brittany had grabbed it and pushed the 'answer' button.

"Hi ! Finally !"

Santana chuckled. _"Eager much ? You could have called, too, you know."_

"Yeah, I know, but– You're in LA, and I don't know how many hours the time difference is between us," Brittany tried to explain, stumbling on the words. "I didn't want to wake you up or something, you know ?"

_"We're only three hours away, Britt. You can call anytime you want."_

"Three hours are a lot. You're far away. I don't like it," she argued. "I wish you were here and we could take the subway together."

_"I wish I were there, too,"_ Santana admitted. Brittany heard a hint of uncertainty in her usually confident tone. She didn't have the time to make sure it was doubt before it was gone. "_But it's only for a little while. I'll be back and in the subway before you know it."_

"All right," she said. "But are you gonna talk to me ?"

_"Sure,"_ Santana reassured her. _"We can talk whenever you want. You have my number, I have yours. If I'm in the middle of something important, I usually just turn my phone off. So you couldn't bother me if you tried."_

She had been asking about whether or not Santana would talk to her in the subway when she would be back. Brittany didn't know if Santana had avoided her question once more or if she had really thought she was talking about phone conversations. Anyhow, she was glad Santana was willing to talk to her. No matter the way.

"Santana, why didn't you ask me about the note when I didn't call you ?" she asked. She could no longer contain herself. "I would've told you I didn't find it."

Santana didn't respond right away. Brittany assumed she was thinking about her answer, so she let her take her time.

_"I don't really know, Britt. Okay, this is gonna sound stupid,"_ she began. She sounded tentative, like she was afraid Brittany would judge her. She should have known Brittany would never judge her. Or anyone else for that matter. She had experienced too much judgment in her life to want to make someone else feel like that. _"I wanted to do something cool for once. If I'd just asked for your number you would have felt like you _had _to give it to me. Let's say it was like… a test ? If you didn't call me then it was just that you didn't want to."_

Brittany frowned. She hadn't called, but it didn't mean she hadn't wanted to. "But I would have called if I'd found it earlier. I would have, I swear."

_"I know… It just didn't occur to me at the time that you may not have found it… I just thought you– you didn't want– I'm really sorry. I've been stupid to think that it could work like in the movies."_

"What do you mean ?"

_"Nothing,"_ Santana sighed. _"It was dumb."_

"Hey, don't say that," Brittany protested. "You're not dumb. Your note wasn't dumb, either. It was sweet. I'm the one who didn't find it and ruined everything."

_"That's okay, Britt."_ She could hear Santana's smile through her words. It made her feel a lot warmer. _"Hey, it's getting late. Don't you have a class tomorrow ?"_

Her eyes snapped to the digital clock standing on her desk. It was already past eleven and she worked on Monday mornings. "I do," she pouted. "I should go to bed."

_"Hey, don't sound so disappointed. We'll talk soon."_

"On the phone ?"

_"Yeah,"_ Santana said. _"I'm in LA for a couple more weeks, remember ?"_

"Yes. We'll talk on the phone then," she said. "I'm okay with that. I'm gonna miss looking into your eyes though. 'Night Santana."

_"Sleep tight, Britt-Britt."_

* * *

Brittany had seldom in her life felt as lonely as she did during her ride home on the next Thursday. By now she was used to being alone with her music when going to work and coming back, but knowing that this was a day when she was supposed to see Santana, and not getting to do just that, really got her down.

When she got home, the feeling of missing Santana was so strong she didn't even took the time to calculate what time it was in LA before she called her. It rang for quite a long time and, even though she wondered if Santana had put her phone on silent for work, she didn't feel self-conscious about it. Santana said she could call whenever she wanted, right ?

She eventually heard a clicking sound. _"Hi Britt,"_ Santana said.

"Hi," she smiled.

_"What's up ?"_

"I just got home from work," she said. "Are you busy ? If you are, I can just call again later."

_"No, that's fine. How's your day going so far ?"_

"Work was okay," she said.

She had tried to keep her misery away from her voice, but Santana probably knew her well enough to hear it anyway, because she asked right away, _"What's wrong, Britt ?"_

"Nothing. It's silly."

_"No, tell me. I want to know."_

"My subway ride was kinda lonely today," she announced. She was blushing and, for once, glad Santana wasn't there to see it.

_"Aw, Britt…"_

"I mean, I knew you were not gonna be there. But it was Thursday, so…" She shrugged instead of finishing the sentence. Even though Santana couldn't see it, she seemed to understand.

_"You know what ? Just call me next Thursday. As soon as you're in the subway. That way we can talk during your ride like usual."_

"Really ?" Brittany was hesitant. "I don't want to annoy people by answering the phone in the subway. Loud people are uncool."

_"C'mon, Britt, we both know there's no one in the subway during your Thursday rides."_

"But won't you have to work ? I mean, I want to talk to you, but I don't want to bother you. You went to LA to work."

_"Don't worry about that. I'll just take an early lunch break. I don't have that much to do anyway."_

Brittany knew this was likely to be a lie, but she didn't call Santana out on it. She was willing to take any chance she got at talking with her.

She went to bed early. Even in sleep, she dreamed of Santana's eyes, Santana's smile, Santana's kind words. No matter how much time she spent thinking about it, she couldn't manage to remember at what moment exactly she had become so captivated by her.

* * *

She talked to Santana almost every day of the next week. She occasionally waited for Santana to call, when she remembered she was supposed to work. But most of the time, she was too restless to wait and she called Santana as soon as she came home from the studio.

Santana's note was displayed in the most prominent position of Brittany's bedroom : fixed to her mirror, she could see it from anywhere in the room. It wasn't really necessary : indeed, Santana's number had been saved in her phone since the first time she had called her. However, she liked to have some proof of Santana's existence next to her. The note reminded her that Santana had once been close enough for Brittany to touch her and that she would be again soon.

The only thing that unsettled her was the fact that she still wasn't certain why Santana had stopped talking to her so abruptly before she left for LA. Sure, it probably had something to do with Brittany not calling her. But was that enough reason for Santana to reject her ? She was pretty sure there had been something else. Santana was still distant with her sometimes during their phone conversations and Brittany felt something was left unsaid, but she couldn't figure out what it was.

When Santana called her during the week-end, she was cooking – well, _trying to cook _would be a better phrasing – and had her hands covered in cookie dough. No need to say she wasn't able to pick up when Santana's special ringtone – yes, she had one. Don't judge – resounded from her phone placed on the counter.

"Quinn ? Can you answer it for me ?"

"Sure." Quinn moved from the stove and grabbed the phone. "Hello, Brittany's phone ?"

She listened for a second.

"No. This is Quinn." Her eyes shot to the screen and widened. "Wait, are you Santana ?" She frowned. "So you finally decided you and Britt were friends again then ?"

"Shoot," Brittany hissed. Maybe allowing Quinn to speak to Santana before explaining to her that Santana didn't mean any wrong wasn't a fantastic idea.

"Just a piece of advice for you, hun. Be careful how you behave around her, or you'll meet me very, very soon," Quinn threatened. Her voice was low and her brows furrowed. Brittany knew that Quinn. She didn't like her a lot.

She rushed to the sink to wash her hands, in the hope to get her phone back before they killed each other – verbally, but still.

"Well, you know what–" Quinn stopped talking abruptly. "Hey, do you know who you're talking–" She stopped again. Santana must have cut her off once more.

"What a bitch," Quinn growled, her eyes narrowed.

"Quinn ! Stop it !"

"She started it !" Quinn cried. "Hey !" she exclaimed when Brittany took the phone from her hands. "I'm just watching out for you here !"

Brittany rolled her eyes at her, but she knew it was true. She made her way to the door.

"Hi Santana. Don't worry about Quinn, I'm pretty sure she's on her periods."

She heard Quinn's yelp of protest from somewhere behind her, but she had already left the kitchen and was closing her bedroom door.

"How are you ?"

_"Well, I was okay. Until like _two minutes ago_ ! Britt, I hate to break it to you but _this girl is nuts_."_

"She's just trying to protect me. I told her you weren't talking to me in the subway anymore and she was there the first time I called you and got your voicemail. She probably just forgot we're okay now."

_"I'm sorry about that, Britt. It won't happen again,"_ Santana declared. _"Could you just, maybe, tell her I said that ? She sounded like she wanted to kill me with her own hands. I can't risk it, y'know. You still owe me a lunch."_

"She won't kill you," Brittany giggled. "I wouldn't let her."

She jumped when she heard a rasping sound on her door. "Hurry up, Britt," she heard Quinn's muffled voice through the door.

"I gotta go, Quinn's waiting for me. I promised I'd go to the movies with her this evening."

_"Oh, okay,"_ Santana said, sounding kind of rejected.

"I'll talk to you soon."

Brittany would have loved to talk with Santana some more, but she knew Quinn would see it as _her best friend ditching her for some bitchy chick_. She knew Quinn so well, she could almost hear it already.

* * *

She was relaxing after a long day when Santana called her on the next Wednesday. She had been sitting on her bed, bobbing her head to the music blasting out of her speakers while answering a text from Mike when Santana's special ringtone covered the music.

"Hello," she said while picking up, but she couldn't hear anything of what Santana said. She rushed to stop the music. "Sorry, couldn't hear you."

_"Gosh, Britt, the music's so loud. Is You-Know-Who not here today ?"_

"Voldemort ?" Brittany squealed, eyes widening.

_"No. Quinn,"_ Santana corrected. She sounded a little bitter. Was she mad at Brittany for hanging up too quickly the other day ? Or at Quinn for shouting at her ? Yes, that was probably it.

"Nope," she said. "She's working."

_"Oh, okay."_

"You-Know-Who is kind of a mean name to call someone, you know."

Santana hummed in agreement, but didn't add anything.

There was a silence. Brittany didn't know what to say. She didn't understand how Santana could resent her for going out with Quinn. Did she miss something ?

_"So… How did you meet Quinn ?"_

Brittany could tell this wasn't truly something Santana wanted to talk about. The question sounded like she was forcing herself to show some interest. Why did she ask about Quinn if she didn't want to talk about her ? It didn't make sense. Santana didn't even like Quinn. They had been yelling at each other on the phone barely twenty-four hours ago.

"I met her in primary school," she answered anyway.

_"Oh wow,"_ Santana exhaled. _"That's a long time ago."_

"Yeah. But at first we weren't– I mean, we were friends. But not really close," she explained. "Not until I broke up with my high school boyfriend."

_"What happened ?"_

She thought back to that day when she had been broken enough to seek Quinn's help, and how she had been walking for more than an hour in the rain when she finally arrived at her house and told her, "I don't want to feel stuff ever again." And she remembered how Quinn made her enter without a word, closed the door behind her and went straight to the kitchen to make her some hot chocolate. That drink had made everything seem a little less dull.

"Hot chocolate is the best," she answered.

_"Sure is,"_ Santana said. She didn't push Brittany to explain further. It made her feel safe enough to do so.

"After I broke up with Artie, Quinn and I became best friends. And we still are," Brittany added. "Even though we don't hang out as much as we used to, now that Noah lives in New York."

_"Who's Noah ?"_

"Quinn's boyfriend. They're high school sweethearts. They're the cutest."

_"Wait,"_ Santana cut. She sounded shocked and dubious. _"Quinn's not your girlfriend ?"_

What ? "Quinn is my best friend."

_"Oh my God,"_ she heard Santana breathe. _"Really ?"_

"Yeah, I just told you. We've been best friends since high school," Brittany insisted. "Why are you acting weird ?"

_"But, I– uh, don't you two live together ?"_

"Yeah. Maybe Quinn's gonna go live with Noah soon though. They've been together for a long time now. I'll be sad when Quinn moves out."

She realized she was getting sidetracked when Santana didn't answer at once.

"Santana ? Did you think I was Quinn's girlfriend ?"

_"Uh–"_

"I'm not, I swear. She's with Noah and I like– uh, talking to you." She bit her lip at her almost-slip up, but Santana didn't seem to hear. Anyway, she already knew Brittany liked her, so it didn't matter.

_"Oh my God,"_ Santana said again. She sounded really confused and Brittany worried something had happened to her head. You shouldn't be so confused about something like that, should you ? _"But what about– What about all the pet names and stuff ?"_

"What are you talking about ?" Brittany frowned.

_"I heard you, Britt, you called her _honey _on the phone."_

"I don't remember that," she said. "But 'honey' is a friendly name, right ? It's affectionate. Right ?"

_"Honey is _not _a friendly name, Brittany."_ Her voice was taut. She sounded frustrated.

"It is !" she argued. "Quinn never complained about me calling her that !"

_"Of course she didn't,"_ Santana said sharply.

Brittany looked at her lap and took a deep breath. She had made Santana mad and she didn't even truly understand how. She didn't want Santana to stop talking to her again. The thought brought tears to her eyes.

_"Britt ? Are you still here ?"_ She must have calmed down. The fierce edge to her voice was gone.

"Yeah," she said. Her voice sounded brittle and she was sure Santana could hear it.

_"Look… I'm sorry for lashing out at you. I just feel really stupid right now."_ It was true ; Brittany could hear her embarrassment all the way from LA.

"It's okay."

_"No, it's not. I'm so sorry, Britt,"_ she said. Now she sounded kind of desperate, and Brittany didn't know what to do with it. _"I'm not mad at you. I think I'm mad at myself for– for misunderstanding and– for screwing things up."_

"You didn't–"

_"I did. I stopped talking to you. God, I'm so _dumb_."_

"You're not dumb, Santana. You're really smart, I think." She didn't answer. "Santana, is this why you've been acting weird ? Did you think I was with someone else ?"

_"Maybe,"_ she muttered, barely loud enough for Brittany to hear.

"But I told you I liked you," Brittany stated. Now she was the one who was confused.

_"I figured maybe you liked me. Not _liked _liked me. You know ?"_

What did that even mean ? Of course she liked Santana. She more than liked her. She was the one thing she thought about every night when falling asleep and every morning when waking up. Of course she _liked_ her.

_"I thought you and Quinn were, like… an item or something. Plus, you never called when I gave you my number. I just thought, you know…"_ Santana paused before explaining in a whisper, _"If you can't have something, you better try to not want it so much… Take some distance from it."_

"What does that mean, Santana ?" Brittany asked. She tried to understand, but Santana's words were confusing. "Do you like me, or do you want to take some distance ?"

Santana took a deep breath. _"It means that I do like you… And that I thought you were… unavailable… so I tried to pull away from you. Because– Because it hurt. Thinking about you with someone else, it hurts."_

Brittany's heart was pounding so hard she felt like it was going to arise from her chest and fly away to LA. She couldn't come up with anything to say except, "So… you like girls ?"

_"Yeah,"_ Santana laughed. _"I love me some ladies."_

"Sweet," Brittany smiled.

Santana giggled again. _"Sounds like you're okay with it."_

"I'm very much okay with it. Like, I couldn't be more okay with it. And I'm not unavailable. For now."

_"For now ?"_

"Yeah," she grinned. "You better hurry up."

_"Oh, yeah ?"_ Santana said, feigning worry. _"And why is that ?"_

"I think I found someone I like," Brittany teased. It was way easier to flirt with Santana on the phone than in the subway. She wasn't distracted by her eyes or her hands or her _lips_ or – Crap.

_"And how is it going ?"_

"It's looking pretty good."

* * *

Santana had been away for two weeks. It was a long time to be separated from her, but Brittany acknowledged the fact that they had never talked so much. In the subway, they had been getting to know each other. On the phone, they were _learning_ about each other.

She even began texting Santana at work, between classes – whenever Tina and Mike were not here to keep her company.

'u didnt ask if _i_ liked girls.'

She smirked while pressing 'Send'.

'i told you i thought you were dating quinn.'

Brittany grinned. A quick answer meant Santana wasn't working at the moment.

'yeah. but how would u know i like girls?'

'i may or may not have caught you checking me up in the subway every now and then.'

Santana's revelation made Brittany's cheeks burn. She had to admit talking on the phone and texting had some perks ; she didn't need Santana seeing the tomato-red face she was displaying right now.

'congratz. now im embarrassed.'

She was interrupted by Tina, who had apparently finished dealing with clients and was now standing in front of her, worry written all over her face.

"Britt ? You okay ?" she asked, and Brittany frowned, not understanding what she was talking about. "Your face looks really red."

"Oh," she realized. "I know. I'm okay."

"You sure ?" Tina asked, glancing at the phone Brittany still clutched in her hand tightly. "What are you doing ?"

"Talking to Santana."

"Who's Santana ?"

"She's the girl I told you about," Brittany said, her face still burning. "The subway girl."

"So you _did_ ask for her name ! And for her number, too !" Tina cried. "Good for you !" Her face lit up with enthusiasm. Brittany couldn't tell if it was because she was genuinely happy for her or if she just liked gossip _that_ much.

"Yeah, well…" She didn't really know what to say. She and Tina were friends, but not close enough for Brittany to not feel a little uncomfortable at Tina's sheer interest. She felt her phone buzzing in her hand. Santana's answer. "I should go. Lunch break's over."

"Okay !" Tina said. "Don't forget to tell me all about it later !"

Brittany turned to the corridor leading to the dance room and waited to be away from Tina to check her phone.

'sorry. it's true tho.'

'okay. maybe it is! gotta go, have a class in 5. ttyl!'

After the class began, she had to stay away from her phone. She wasn't able to check it again before she finished work, at five pm. She had never been so dependent on something – especially her phone. But she knew it was only a matter of time before Santana came back and they could talk in person.

She liked to think she wasn't hooked on her phone, but on Santana.

* * *

"When will you be back ?"

_"If everything goes well, I only have to be here three more days. Okay ?"_

"Okay," Brittany parroted. "Good. How was work ?"

_"It was all right, I guess. I kinda just want to come home now."_

"I want you to come home, too," Brittany mumbled.

Santana laughed. _"You're too sweet, Britt-Britt."_ She paused before asking, _"How was your subway ride ?"_

"Lonely," she answered. "I missed you. I mean, I miss you. Not right now though."

_"I miss you too, Britt,"_ she said softly. _"No funny subway stories to tell me today ?"_

"Well, I saw that blonde guy this morning..."

_"What blonde guy ?"_

"The one who said weird things with weird voices," she tried to describe. "The big-lipped one."

_"Oh,"_ Santana breathed.

"Yeah. Well, I didn't talk to him this time. I don't like him very much," she said.

_"I understand that. Me neither."_

Brittany cocked her head. "Really ?" She knew for a fact Santana liked blondes…

_"Really."_

"Why were you laughing at his jokes then ?" she asked, confused.

_"Uh, I think I was trying to be polite. He wasn't funny, Britt."_

"So you were you just leading him on ?"

_"Well…"_ Santana hesitated. _"At first I just wanted to make you jealous, you know ?"_ she admitted. Brittany's eyes widened. _"I mean, I wanted to see if it was doing something to you."_

Brittany made some kind of huffing sound. If Santana had wanted to make her react, she had absolutely succeeded.

_"But then you just looked so upset. I didn't want to hurt you,"_ Santana murmured. _"So I tried to stop him."_

"I remember," Brittany said.

_"Well, I guess I did a better job at looking interested than I thought. He was persuaded some more impressions would make me change my mind."_

Brittany giggled. "Poor guy."

_"Yeah,"_ she agreed, joining her laughing.

"Santana ?"

_"Hm ?"_

"When did you know you liked me ?"

She didn't answer right away. _"I would say the first time I saw you, but that's way too cheesy. Like, even for me."_ Brittany giggled. _"So… when you gave me that rose in Starbucks, I think."_

"Really ?" Brittany asked, surprised.

_"Of course,"_ Santana assured. _"A red rose, I mean, how could I not like you ?"_

"The flower woman told me I shouldn't be giving it to you. Because we're friends. And red doesn't mean friends."

_"Well,"_ Santana said. _"We're not just friends, are we ?"_

"No," Brittany grinned, shaking her head.

_"You did well giving it to me then,"_ Santana declared and Brittany could hear the smile in her voice. _"What about you ? When did you… you know, like me ?"_

"I don't really know…" She tried to find an answer. "I like you more every time I say what I think and you don't laugh at me."

_"I would never. You, Britt, are brilliant."_

A familiar warm feeling filled her chest. She was blushing, but this time she didn't care.

She didn't talk a lot for the rest of the conversation and, later, stayed mostly silent while eating dinner with Quinn in front of the TV. When Quinn asked her what was going on, she said, "I think I'm in love with Santana."

"Looks like it," Quinn smiled. Brittany was thankful she seemed to have overcome her Santana-hate. "Nothing wrong with that, right ?"

"No."

"What's with the thoughtful look then ?"

"I'm afraid I'm gonna let it slip first thing when I'll see her again," Brittany said. "Like, I already struggle to keep it for myself when we're on the phone. My brain's gonna be so dizzy when I see her, I don't think I'll be able to control what I say."

* * *

Every time she heard Santana's special ringtone, her heart jolted. This time wasn't an exception. She was so screwed…

"Hello," she said.

_"I'll be in the same city as you in about six hours,"_ Santana exclaimed.

"Oh my God !" Brittany cheered. "For real ?"

_"For real,"_ Santana said and she sounded just as excited as her. _"I can't wait to see you next Thursday."_

"Then let's not," Brittany's eyes widened at her own boldness.

_"Let's not what ?"_

"Wait," she clarified. "Let's not wait until next Thursday."

Santana paused before asking, in a shy little voice that didn't sound like her own, _"D'you wanna come pick me up at the airport ?"_

"Yeah," Brittany beamed. But her smile soon faded. "I'd like that. But I– I don't have a car."

_"That's okay. You can come anyway. If you want to."_

If Santana said it was okay to pick up someone without a car, then it was. She would believe anything right now, if it meant she got to see Santana as soon as she landed in New York.

"Okay," she agreed. "I'll be there. And you'll be there, too. We'll be in the same place."

Santana chuckled. _"Britt, I have to go now or I'll miss my flight. I just wanted to let you know before leaving."_

"Oh, okay," Brittany said. It was a strange feeling. She was disappointed she only got to talk with Santana for a few minutes, but extremely jumpy at the fact that she was about to see her. For real. Soon. Well, in about six hours… That was not soon enough.

"Santana ?"

_"What, Britt-Britt ?"_ Her voice was silk-soft and cotton candy-sweet.

"When I see you, I think I'm gonna want to kiss you. Would that be okay ?"

_"Yes,"_ Santana breathed. _"I'm gonna want to kiss you, too."_

* * *

Brittany spent the few hours before Santana's return trying to calm her nerves. Quinn spent them as far away from her as she could. She said standing next to a nervous Brittany made her so nervous herself she no longer had nails at the end of the day.

When it was time to go meet Santana, Brittany found a cab and tried to follow as precisely as possible the instructions Santana had sent her to find her in the airport.

Navigating through the crowds occupying the airport wasn't easy. Maybe she should find some Airport Rules for next time. Or maybe she could just prevent Santana from ever going away again ?

After struggling to find her way for a while, she found the place where Santana was supposed to arrive at. She checked her phone. She was early. There were no messages from Santana waiting for her to read them. Like every time it happened, it made her pout. She knew Santana was in a plane and all, but she hadn't talked to her for six hours and she didn't like it.

She waited for someone to get up to check the arrival board and took their seat. It was only fair that everyone took turns sitting, right ?

The chair was comfy. And she was pretty tired, given that she had been pacing all around the apartment for four hours, waiting for the time to go. Her eyelids were so, so heavy…

"Why do I always find you asleep, Britt ?"

She jumped. Santana was hovering over her, a gentle hand on her shoulder shaking her up.

"Always ?" she asked. Her voice was hoarse and really unsexy, but Santana smiled anyway.

"You were asleep the first time we took the subway together. Remember ?"

"Yeah," she said and rubbed her eyes. "Welcome back in your country."

"I never left the country, Britt. LA is in the USA too," Santana explained.

"Right," she said. Geography had never been her thing. However, kissing was her thing. Santana said she would kiss her. Why wasn't she kissing her ? Hey, Santana ? Remember what you said ? You're supposed to kiss someone here.

Unfortunately, Santana didn't seem to be able to read her mind. Nor did she seem to remember their conversation. She extended her hand for Brittany to take and helped her up. Brittany grinned. The contact was nice. "Hi," she said.

"Hey Britt," Santana smiled. She still had the prettiest smile in the whole world. Her dimples were showing and her lips looked so, so soft. Brittany tore her gaze away from Santana's mouth to look at her eyes. She was staring at Brittany's own lips. Brittany was in awe. They were probably linked together by some sort of strange, magical bond. That was the only way people could share the same thoughts.

Why weren't they kissing already ?

Was Santana comfortable enough to kiss her in the middle of the airport ? She turned her head to glance around them. Everybody was rushing in some direction or another. Nobody seemed to care. What were they waiting for then ? Maybe she should just do it herself–

She turned to Santana again and she was so close. She didn't have the time to lean forward herself before Santana's nose was brushing against her own, Santana's face was tilting to the side, Santana's top lip was covering hers. Santana's bottom lip was covering hers. She had been right. Her lips were undeniably soft. And warm.

Santana's touch was light. She wasn't moving, like she was waiting for Brittany to set the pace. So she did. She pushed harder against Santana's mouth and kissed back. She was so enthusiastic her lips slid against Santana's and a second later, Santana's top lip was between both of her own. She nibbled at it playfully and Santana chuckled before bringing a hand to Brittany's cheek and pulling her closer.

The action took her by surprise. She released Santana's lip.

Santana took advantage of her freedom of movement by parting her lips a tiny bit more and swiping her tongue delicately against Brittany's bottom lip. A shiver ran along her back. She brought her arms up to wrap them around Santana's waist and keep her close.

After that, the only thing she could hear was her heartbeat mixed up with the eventual soft smacking noises their lips made while moving against each other.

When Santana pulled away and stroked her cheek tenderly, Brittany had no idea how much time they had spent kissing in the middle of the crowded airport. She opened her eyes to see Santana's smile and said, "I want to kiss you again."

So she did.

* * *

The next day, they had dinner together in a tiny restaurant Santana wanted to show her. Even though she didn't have any other option, Brittany was reluctant at the idea of taking the subway to get there, but it turned out she didn't have to. Santana actually had a car and picked her up. "Taking the subway is more eco-friendly. And faster, anyway," she explained. "Plus, the company is better." She winked at her and Brittany felt like she was going back to the first time she had been stunned by that wink.

The food was good and Brittany couldn't stop her grin every time she glanced up at Santana and saw her look so happy. She wasn't certain this was a date – if so, she wasn't even sure if this was their _first_ date : did Starbucks count as a date ? Did every subway ride count as one ? – but she was determined to enjoy it anyway. She told Santana about the call from her mom in the morning – she was going to visit her in New York soon – and was sorry to learn Santana didn't have much contact anymore with a large part of her family. She explained some family members were quite traditional and didn't react well when she came out to them several years ago. However, she had since made up with most of those, although she was no longer very close to them.

When Brittany finished her plate, she wasn't hungry enough anymore to eat dessert. She grabbed Santana's arm when she made a move to get up.

"It's my turn to pay," she said.

"Oh yeah, that's right. I did pay last time," Santana conceded.

Brittany nodded. This was all the confirmation she needed to know this was totally a date. And according to Santana, 'last time' in Starbucks had been a date, too. It was only fair that they would take turn paying.

Santana offered to take her home and held her hand over the console all the way back to Brittany's apartment. When she got out of the car, Santana did, too. She walked around the car and took Brittany's hand in hers again.

"Can I kiss you, Britt-Britt ?"

Her heart leaped into the air. At least, it was what it felt like.

Santana's eyes were shining. She was pretty sure hers were, too. "You can kiss me any time you want, Santana."

She did so gently, barely moving at all. But her perfume was making Brittany go crazy and she deepened the kiss almost immediately. Santana's arms tightened around her neck. Soon, her teeth were scraping against Santana's and her tongue was exploring Santana's mouth. She had no idea how she managed to keep going so long without breathing. Or maybe she was still breathing ? How would she know ?

Santana brought a hand behind Brittany's head and pressed her impossibly closer. The warm sensation inside Brittany's chest expanded everywhere in her body. Her fingertips were burning, her knees weakening. She felt a familiar, stormy feeling at the bottom of her stomach and also… lower. The heat was overwhelming.

Her hands dropped from Santana's back to fall on her ass. She pulled her closer.

But Santana pulled back. She was panting. Brittany was, too.

"I don't think we're supposed to sleep on the first date," she said reluctantly, her breath short. But her eyes were dark with something peculiar Brittany had never seen before and her lips were a deep red from all the kissing. She didn't think she could stop now.

"Our first date was in Starbucks. You paid," she said. "This is our second date."

Santana smirked. "Fair enough," she breathed before going for Brittany's lips once more.

* * *

They stumbled into the apartment.

"Quinn's not here," she said and pulled Santana to her bedroom.

She barely had the time to close the door behind them.

* * *

A light layer of sweat made Santana's skin shimmer. She could hear nothing but sharp breathing and her heart beating against Santana's. She wanted to be sure Santana was still with her, so she said, "You're beautiful."

Santana opened her eyes. Brittany saw so much emotions in them she wasn't sure she could handle them all.

Santana pulled her back on top of her.

* * *

Santana was everywhere. She was in the touch of their lips, in the feeling of their chests pressed against one another. She was the short nails running along Brittany lower back. Their legs were tangled at the bottom of the bed and, in the dim light, Brittany could no longer see what arm or leg or foot was Santana's and which was hers.

It was messy.

The best kind of messy.

* * *

She pressed open-mouth kisses on Santana's neck. It wasn't her first time being with a girl. It wasn't her first time being inside a girl. But the combined feeling of Santana's legs wrapped around her and Santana's panting breaths against her hair, added to the lukewarm fervor that filled her every time she looked into her eyes, was different from anything she had ever experienced.

She was short of breath, too, and her wrist was beginning to tire, but she wouldn't have stopped for anything in the world. She brought her free hand to Santana's face and wiped the pearl of perspiration off her brow.

* * *

She moaned when Santana's lips pressed against her for the first time.

Her lips soon made way for her tongue, then her teeth then her lips again. Santana obviously knew what she was doing. After a couple of minutes, Brittany didn't know anymore how Santana was doing it – she just felt the result.

One of her hands tangled in dark locks. The other felt around for Santana's hand. When Santana realized it, she gave it to her and squeezed her fingers tightly.

She knew she was making sounds, she just wasn't aware of them before they were out of her mouth.

The delicious feeling of Santana's smile against her eventually sent her over the edge.

* * *

It was late in the morning when Brittany woke up. She felt Santana stirring by her side, but didn't open her eyes right away.

"I know you're awake, Britt. You're smiling. Open your eyes, please."

She honestly had no idea how Santana's voice could be so smooth when she just woke up. Brittany shook her head in refusal and grinned when she felt Santana climbing half on top of her.

"C'mon, Britt," Santana whined.

She complied. Santana's thoughtful expression hung just above Brittany's face and her eyes bored into hers. They didn't say anything for a while.

"Are we girlfriends, or what ?" Santana blurted. Her unsure expression made Brittany's insides melt with fondness.

"I think we are. If you want to be."

"I want to."

"Okay then. I'll be your girlfriend if you'll be mine. Will you be my girlfriend, Santana ?"

Santana beamed. "I do." She leaned forward but when Brittany realized what she was going to do, she quickly put her hand in front of her mouth and Santana ended up kissing her palm. She pouted. "I want to kiss you, Britt-Britt."

"You can. After I brush my teeth," she said, her voice muffled by her hand.

"But I don't want to wait," Santana complained. "C'mon, kiss me. I'll do anything you want, any time you want."

"Anything ? Anything at all ?" Santana nodded. "Okay. I want you to… sing for me."

Santana laughed. "You could've had anything you wanted, you know."

"That's what I want ! You'll sing for me, or I go brush my teeth."

She made a move to get up.

"Okay, fine ! Fine, I'll sing. I can sing."

"Oh, really ?" Brittany grinned. "And do you have any other secret talents ?"

"Let me think." Santana frowned. "Okay, I can solve a Rubik's Cube. What d'you think about that ?"

"Wow, my girlfriend's so talented," Brittany stage whispered. "Is this how you get all the girls ?"

"I wished I'd known it was the way to get _you_. Would have saved me a lot of trouble, don't you think ?"

Someone knocked on the bedroom door. It was probably Quinn. When Brittany shouted "Come in !" Santana met her eyes with alarm.

Oh… right.

Santana grabbed the sheets and threw them around Brittany and herself, just in time before Quinn opened the door and came in.

"Britt, do you – Oh God !" she exclaimed and put a hand in front of her eyes. "I'm sorry !"

"That's okay, Quinnie."

"You could have warned me before telling me to come in !"

"Right. Sorry," she said, then shouted, "This is my girlfriend !"

Quinn stared at them with wide eyes, but a smile was spreading over her face.

"Hi," Santana grinned. "I'm Santana."

"I figured."


	4. Epilogue

**GREEN AND RED**

**Epilogue**

* * *

After she paid for their drinks, Brittany tugged on Santana's hand and pulled the door open for her. Outside of Starbucks, the air was much cooler. The wind made Santana's hair twirl around her face.

"Your nose is pink." Santana smiled. She rubbed Brittany's nose with her gloved hand.

"Yours is, too," Brittany said even though she couldn't see if it was. Santana's hair was everywhere. "Are you cold ? Are you blushing ?"

"No it's not," she grinned. "Ethnic people don't blush."

Brittany remembered many times when she had seen Santana very much blushing, but she said nothing. Instead, she pulled her scarf away from her neck and approached it toward Santana's face.

"No, take it back, Britt-Britt. I promise I'm not cold."

Brittany ignored her gentle protest and wrapped the scarf around Santana's head, right over her eyes.

"What are you doing ?" Santana frowned slightly.

"Do you trust me ?" she asked while tying the scarf behind Santana's head. She knew the answer.

"Yeah. One hundred per cent trusting you," Santana said with a smile. Her dimples were showing, just below the edge of the scarf.

Brittany gave her a mouse kiss on the tip of her nose. "Don't worry," she said, taking Santana's hand in hers and pulling her forward. "I'm not gonna lose you."

Santana squeezed her fingers. "Okay."

They only walked a few minutes before they were standing in front of a graffiti wall near the subway station. It was the same they had seen the first time they had met outside the subway. It had been almost six years ago, but it was as fresh in her memory as if it had been last week.

Brittany brought them to a halt. She loosened the scarf and Santana took it off. When their eyes met, Brittany smiled at her and nodded to the wall.

Santana turned to look at it and her jaw dropped. The letters Brittany had careful painted on it a few nights ago were standing out neatly.

She turned slowly and met her eyes. At this point, Brittany's lip-biting was becoming an issue. She had known exactly what she wanted to say only five minutes ago, but know she couldn't remember it all.

"I love you, Santana," she said. Her throat was dry. She gulped to try and relieve it. "I can't tell you I will love you forever, because I don't know if it is possible to love someone after you die. So telling you that would be lying – and I don't ever want to lie to you. But I can promise you that I will love you until the day I die, because I know I will. So, well…" She pointed to the wall.

The question was illuminated by the single street lamp on its left.

'SANTANA WILL YOU MARRY ME ?'

It was a rainbow of colors, undulating to the rhythm of the passing cars' lights.

"Will you marry me, San ?" she asked, because she knew Santana wanted to hear her say it. She didn't lower on one knee though, because there was mushy snow on the sidewalk.

Santana took a step closer to her. Her eyes were glistening and her voice was the most peaceful Brittany had ever heard when she said, "Of course I'll marry you, Britt-Britt."

Brittany pulled Santana tight against her and buried her face in her neck. She was laughing and crying at the same time, her cheeks sore from smiling so big.

Without letting go of Santana's hand, she pulled out of her bag the pretty ring she had bought for her and an aerosol can of red spray paint. She removed the cap and wrote carefully, 'SHE SAID YES'.

Then she clumsily pushed the ring on Santana's finger. When she had finished, Santana tugged on her hand to pull her into a kiss.

They ambled hand in hand to the subway station, leaving behind them the large letters to dry under the jet black sky.


End file.
